


Secrets

by davincescode



Series: Subject: Lost Number [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davincescode/pseuds/davincescode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life in Vincent Valentine's day from the eyes of a cat. Also, an exploratory piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

Secret, it is spoken in the man’s gait.

The first time they met, she was by his window. He was at the table, having toasts. He always have. One of the man’s peculiar traits, he never seems tired of toast. Or Milk. But that’s the trait they share. Crimson is met with a hint of peridot gold. A bowl of creamy treat is passed.

Secret, something is spoken in that act. She has taken a residence since.

Secret, after all, is what she desired.

356 days, at 6, he would wake. He would stretch, but he won’t get up. Blanket maybe tossed aside, revealing the plane of his ivory chest. He doesn’t have scars, not one she could see. And she  _have seen_ , sometime he takes her to bath with him. Bath, sometime her hackle also risen in disdain. He never pressed.

There’s a mark on his nape. That’s also another of his secret.

356 days, close to 7, he would stir. The schedule is precise. Muscle flexed, he would reach for the stick.  _That stick_ , it conjures noise. Men’s business, she has never taken interest. They are not like him. The plane of his abdomen is inviting, and she would curl upon it as those crimson orbs begin to clear up to fully taking in the news of the day. Again, men’s business, it’s never interested her.

But he is, he and his secret.

365 days, at  8, he would left for work. At 8, he would return. Milk is left, if she chooses to stay. Sometime she doesn’t. Sometime she’d be gone for days. Secret, she also has hers.

She think he secretly missed her. There’d be Tuna, and something special whenever she’s gone too long. There’s also that look on his face. He doesn’t show it often. But that look is casted upon his friends when they left, from the third floor of his balcony– something akin to loneliness. Another secret of his. He doesn’t talk much. The number of his friends is as countable and the nail on her paws.

Secret, one day out of 365 days of the year, she would wake up to find him gone. It would be after midnight before he returns, single white lily in his hand. That day, she would stay. It’s always the same. The lily will be by the window, bathed in starlight. His form will follow. The emotions flickered upon his face, there’s no words to describe. She would jump upon the sill, curl in his lap, her words would went unnoticed, but his fingers would be in her midnight fur.

Secret, she thinks that face, it is only to her, and whoever the lily is meant for, that he showed.

He is a man of many secrets.

But his secret is hers.

 


End file.
